AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She reached for the phone book, flipping through the yellow pages. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. A messenger service that was off the beaten path.
She pulled on her black wool coat, flipping up the hood so it covered her head and hair. Next, she slipped on a pair of sunglasses.
No credit cards, she reminded herself.
Rifling through her wallet, she found a hundred-dollar bill, and stuffed it into her coat pocket. Then she returned the wallet to her purse, which she locked in her bottom desk drawer. She couldn’t present ID she didn’t have. She’d simply say she left her purse at home. Cash was a wonderful motivator.
Five minutes later, she left her office and the building.
She was taking an enormous risk.
But she owed an enormous debt.
TWENTY-SIX
The Friday-morning sky was clear. The Poconos made a great backdrop. Lane’s jump had been spectacular.
Too bad Jonah felt like shit.
He’d been tired and light-headed since they got there, and the equipment setup and constant movement had made the dizziness and fatigue worse. He’d tried downing a muffin and some Gatorade, but neither helped.
Fighting his body’s discomfort, he struggled with the unwieldy camera, made heavy by the telephoto lens and motor drive. He had only one chance to capture the congressman on film. As it was, the pressure was on. They’d practically had to tear the congressman away from home, convince him that the publicity was necessary enough for him to leave his family—even for an abbreviated day. This shoot would be short and sweet, then home.
With Lane taking aerial shots from the plane, the ground shots were Jonah’s responsibility.
Normally, he’d be totally psyched and in his element.
But his hands were sweaty and his muscles were weak. He felt feverish, like he was coming down with something. Just his luck. He’d made an asshole of himself with that stupid skiing accident the other day and now he was getting the flu.
No way. The flu was just going to have to wait until after he got home tonight.
Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he pointed the camera skyward and followed Arthur’s smooth descent, the motor drive snapping each frame in rapid succession.
He was pretty sure he’d pulled it off—and pulled it off well.
But he still felt like shit.
AS AGREED, MONTY arrived at Charlie Denton’s office at twelve-fifteen. He walked in right on time, and with the agreed-upon pastrami sandwiches, chicken soup, and Dr. Brown’s cherry soda from Lenny’s for a “lunch-and-learn meeting.”
Monty wasn’t walking out without answers to two open questions: Were his suspicions right about who the CI in Angelo’s file was, and what was the basis for Charlie’s beef with Arthur Shore? His bargaining chip was giving Charlie George Hayek’s name, which he was more than willing to do—if he got what he wanted.
His gut told him that Denton would be a strong ally at this point, especially after Wednesday night’s break-in at Morgan’s place. The threats against her were escalating, which would prod Denton into action, given his loyalty to Morgan and to Jack. Plus, he was familiar with the criminal mind, saw the patterns in their actions. Like Monty, he’d realize that the perp’s escalating threats meant he was feeling vulnerable. And that meant they were closing in on him.
“The entire office is probably buzzing with the news that the lead detective on Jack’s murder case is visiting me,” Charlie complained in greeting, shutting the door behind Monty with a firm click. “I’ll be fielding questions all afternoon.”
“And you’ll handle them just fine. Say I was here to clarify details of the criminal cases Jack was prosecuting before he died. Your colleagues will like the fact that the angle I’m pursuing will further the image of Jack Winter as a hero.”
“He was a hero,” Charlie corrected him, sitting down behind his cluttered desk and pulling out a thick manila folder that he put in front of him. “Too much so. It probably got him killed.”
“We don’t know what got him killed. But we’re going to find out.” Eyeing the folder like a kid in a candy store, Monty forced himself to be patient. There was no point in jumping all over Denton. Better to put him in the mood to exchange confidences. And, if all else failed—well, that’s what Rhoda’s matzo-ball soup was for.
Calmly, he passed a sandwich, a tall container of soup, and a can of soda across the desk to Charlie, then plopped down in the opposite chair. “Lenny’s finest,” he announced.
“Bribery?” A corner of Charlie’s mouth lifted.
“Camaraderie.” There was no point in trying to snow the guy. He was a seasoned prosecutor. He’d see through BS in a minute. “The way I see it, we’re on the same team, especially now. I think Morgan’s life depends on it.”
Charlie’s smile faded. “How is she?”
